The Hippocratic Oath
by The Clumsy Alchemist
Summary: Wanting to do some good in the post-war world she now lives in, Hermione Granger raises her wand against not only injustice, but disease and injury. After a rampant New Year's celebration to usher in the new millennia, she and Draco Malfoy keep crossing paths. Is it luck or fate?
1. The Evening Prior

**Chapter One – The Evening Prior**

Before she even opened her eyes, Hermione Granger knew she was hungover. The dull pulsing behind her eyes and rolling stomach gave that much away. That was the _last_ time she let Ginny convince her to go out and party.

" _But it's going to be a new millennia!" Ginny had pouted. She had been begging Hermione for three days. They had stood by the stove at the Burrow the night before New Year's Eve. Molly was making stew for dinner and Hermione and Ginny offered their help._

" _I said no, Ginny!" Hermione remained steadfast to Ginny's insistence and held her position on the matter. She leaned back as the onions she had been mincing floated into the ripping hot skillet to become aromatic before being added to the stew. Hermione turned back to Ginny, her face set with determination. "I'm already going to the New Year's Eve banquet at the Ministry. Minister Shacklebolt invited Harry, Ronald, I and personally to make speeches to toast the new millennia and enter a new era without Voldemort."_

 _Ginny still cringed at the name, but she recovered from her lapse quickly. "That's precisely why you lot_ need _to come out with us! Honestly. All those stuffy Ministry hags and the whiny reporters from the_ Daily Prophet _will drive you absolutely mental. You need one night of partying like a regular human being."_

 _Hermione tapped her wand against the stew pot. It began stirring itself. Ginny did have a point. Ever since the downfall of Voldemort, she, Ron, and Harry didn't seem to have a moment's peace. Everywhere they went there were cameras and reporters wanting interviews, as well as other witches and wizards that wanted pictures, a moment of conversation, sex, or (in one very bizarre instance) all of the above and a lock of Hermione's hair. Harry had ushered her away, beet red in the face, while Ron spat profanities back at them for such a horrific request._

 _She looked back up at Ginny, who was channeling her best puppy dog face. Hermione sighed heavily. "I'll make you a deal. The three of us will go to the Ministry banquet, say our speeches, and then go out with you. But only a few drinks! I have a lot to do this weekend."_

 _The ginger witch had screamed with delight and hugged her, insisting that they go to the shops in muggle London for club outfits. Hermione had been excited to do so; girls' days with Ginny were a treat; especially in places where no one knew who they were._

In some ways, Hermione regretted agreeing to going out to a club. She was sure she was going to vomit in a few minutes and they had drunk far more than they intended to. But she remembered having fun. Wasn't that all that mattered?

Hermione rubbed her eyes, finding—to her chagrin—that they were still caked with makeup. Perfect. She didn't want to deal with this now. It was way too early. Or at least she thought it was. Hermione cracked one bleary eyelid open to look at the muggle alarm clock on her bedside table. She was very glad that New Year's Day was on a Saturday this year; it was almost noon.

She rolled over in bed and felt her arm hit something solid. Jumping up in surprise and finally opening her eyes fully, Hermione reeled back, got tangled in the sheets, and fell off the bed. She squealed in horror as she tried to wrap the bed sheets around herself. There was a man in her bed and she was completely naked!

"Mff…"

The man groaned and sat up, blocking the rays of morning light that streamed though the window. "Where…?"

Hermione looked up at the man in her bed in horror and shock. "MALFOY?!" She shrieked.

Draco Malfoy swung his head around and looked down at her. His eyes became the size of dinner plates. His lip curled and he spat: "Granger?! What the hell is going on?" He jumped out of her bed and Hermione covered her eyes with a squeak. He was as naked as the day he was born.

"Where are my clothes?" Malfoy demanded as he came to the same realization. Hermione continued to cover her eyes with her hand. "What the hell am I doing here?! Where am I?!"

Anger and annoyance bubbled in Hermione's chest. "This is my flat! What are YOU doing here?!" She heard him scrabbling around and putting clothing on.

"Sleeping in your bed apparently! Why were you sleeping on the floor?"

"I wasn't! _I_ was sleeping in _my_ bed! You were the one—!"

"Merlin's beard, tell me we didn't sleep together."

Hermione rounded on him, glad that he was covered now. He seemed have stopped fumbling with his silver necktie and was now staring at her, agog. She felt the same sense of foreboding and surprise.

"Well if you had any brains for logic, you would come to the swift conclusion that it must be the case." She took no pride in saying it, but it must be true. What other conclusions could be drawn from the scattered clothes, naked bodies, and musky smelling sheets she was now entwined in? The very thought of it made her feel sick. Or was that the hangover?

Malfoy wrenched off his tie in frustration and put his head in his hands. "Dear gods above and below…"

Hermione stood up, the beige sheet wrapped around her like an ancient Roman stola. "Please, spare me the melodramatics." She tried to hold herself with some sort of poise, despite the sheet she was wearing and the impending need to be sick. "It isn't as if I am not equally ashamed of what we evidently did. Now please do me the greatest favor you could ever accomplish and get out of my sight!"

"There is truly no need to tell me twice." Malfoy grumbled as he picked up his belongings and, throwing her one last dirty look, disappearated with a crack.

Hermione put a hand to her head and sat down on the edge of her bed, mind reeling. Draco Malfoy. In her bed?! What had they done? Well, other than the obvious of having sex—

She sprinted to her bathroom and was promptly sick. The smell was vile and brought back harsh memories of the previous evening. A whiskey shot here, a dance there, far too many vodka cranberries in the middle, and at least one Irish car bomb. Lots of grinding on unknown muggle men, booming bass music, and maybe another round of shots happened at some point. Sweet Merlin, how was she not dead?

Wait, she had been sick before now.

Last night. In the alleyway of the bar.

Oh god, it was all coming back to her now.

Someone held her hair.

Ron? No, Ron didn't drink anymore.

This someone was drunk too.

Harry?

No.

MALFOY.

She remembered the shock of white blond hair. She had looked up and faintly recognized him. He was piss drunk too. But he had cared and helped her home. She remembered slurring how amazing he was to apperate while drunk and not splinch them. Despite the vomiting, she had somehow still been incredibly drunk.

" _Honest… Honestly! I've neverrrr done that! You're soooo talented, Malfoy…" She leaned into his shoulder earnestly, smelling his earthy cologne. It kindled a fire in her that had been dormant since she and Ron had broken up. "It was so amazing of you to bring me home! I mean, honestly! What would I have done if you weren't there?"_

 _He scoffed as she fumbled for her keys to her apartment. "Pleeeeease. That was nothing. Literally nothing. I'm amazing in all sorts of ways!" He tried leaning against the door frame but fell onto the floor in a drunken pile of limbs. Hermione burst into fits of giggles at the sight and Malfoy soon joined in her laugher._

" _You know… You know something, M-Malfoy?" She sat on the floor next to him after she closed the door to her apartment. "You have a grrrrreat smile. Why don't cha ever smile?"_

" _Why don't you ever call me Draco?" He shot back, fixing her with his storm grey eyes. Said eyes had trouble focusing on her at first, but he found her face eventually and made a less than convincing scowl. "You and your friends… ya always… always just call me by my surname and you don't hafta!" All pomp and circumstance in his voice was gone now; years of pureblood lessons and vocal training were a memory after a long night of drinking._

 _Hermione propped her chin on her fists and cocked her head at him, sending the whole room spinning. "I dunno. We always have. I think it's 'cause you were such… such a prick in school."_

 _He seemed to look ashamed. Then again, she was absolutely drunk._

" _I've ch-changed, you know…"_

 _Something in his voice caught her attention. She hiccupped once and leaned in towards his face. "I think you're (hic) right. I mean, I mean, the Malfoy I know would never bring me home when I was so sodding drunk." She laughed again, but stopped when she saw Malfoy had sat up and was now staring at her intently. "What? (hic) Whadid I say?"_

" _Lemme show you."_

" _Huh?"_

" _Lemme show you, Hermione. Lemme show you I've changed. I'll, I'll be a better person in the future! I'll show you!" There was fire in those storms now._

 _Hermione fell forward onto his chest again, the room continuing to do a loop around her. "Can you show me later? I'm suuuuuuper (hic) dizzy. I wanna lie down… Help me to my room?"_

 _Malfoy fidgeted, then asked: "Am, am I allowed in your bedroom?"_

 _Hermione laughed until she saw he was serious. "Yeah, 'course you are! C'mon, help me up, you (hic) you lump." He forced himself to his feet and lifted Hermione deftly. "Geez, you're strong…" Suddenly, they were almost nose-to-nose, looking at each other from a distance they had never experienced before. Hermione never realized that she and Malfoy were the same height, and she wasn't a short woman by any stretch._

" _Oh…"_

" _Um…"_

" _Your… Your breath smells like booze."_

 _The comment took Hermione so off guard that she couldn't help but laugh. Malfoy joined her, and it felt really nice. Almost natural._

 _Just as quickly as they had started laughing, their lips were locked and neither was sure who made the first move._

She winced as the rest of the night came flooding back in great detail. She wasn't sure what was more unnerving: a laid back Draco Malfoy at a muggle club in London or her seeming ability to befriend anyone while drunk. Had he been serious when he said he had changed? This wasn't Hogwarts anymore. They weren't children. Children say awful things to each other; adults could forgive.

Hermione shook her head. Who was she kidding? This was Draco Malfoy. Of course he hadn't been serious. The way he had reacted being in the same room with her just minutes ago was proof enough of that. No, if one thing was for certain, Draco Malfoy could not change. He would not. A headstrong Slytherin like that? Hermione scowled into her toilet bowl and repressed another wave of nausea. Nope. Once a bully always a bully.

One drunken night of foolishness wouldn't change that.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Hermione could say she was refreshed. After showering the hairspray out and wiping all the makeup off, she felt nearly human. Nearly was the keyword to the phrase, however. That was nothing a cup of coffee couldn't fix. With a flick of her wand, the muggle machine began to fill itself and brew a particularly strong cup of Sumatran blend.

 _CRACK!_

"Morning!"

Hermione nearly dropped the mug she was retrieving from the cupboard. She whirled around to see Ginny Weasley standing in her living room, looking bright and chipper.

"Merlin's pants, Ginny, warn me before you do that! I nearly had a heart attack."

The redhead raised a brow. "Merlin's pants?"

Hermione waved a dismissive hand. "A favored expression of Ron that rubbed off on me." Ginny pulled a face.

"I don't want to know about what of my brother has rubbed off on you." She ducked the thrown bag of coffee that went whizzing over her head. "Kidding, kidding!"

"Didn't sound very 'kidding' to me. _Accio coffee bag,"_ Hermione caught the bag and put it back in the cupboard. "Why are you so awake and excited this morning? Do you not recall the rager we got ourselves into last night?" Hermione automatically poured two cups of coffee, milk and two sugars for herself and black with three sugars for Ginny. She took a sip and smiled. Perfect.

"Ron is bringing a new friend 'round for New Year's dinner." Ginny said with a gush of satisfaction, taking her coffee mug with both hands.

Hermione looked at Ginny, confused. "Harry brings me every year. So what if Ron brings a friend?"

Ginny scoffed. "No, no, no. A _friend._ "

"It's too early for this, Ginny, honestly."

"It's a girl!"

"What?"

"Ron's bringing some girl named Cass!"

Something felt vaguely painful in Hermione's chest when Ginny said that. Ron had moved on. Hermione shook out the thought. Why did she care anyway? It was Ron that broke off their relationship. It had been for the best; they had both agreed on that. The relationship was unhealthy and they didn't have the same connection that they did at Hogwarts. The war had strained them too much; they had grown apart. It was only natural. " _These things happen,"_ he had said.

"Hello? Are you in there, Hermione?"

She snapped out of her reverie to look up at Ginny. "Sorry, the news just startled me is all."

Ginny was quiet. "Are you still in love with him?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer that. "I don't think so," she replied lamely. "In all reality, I'm not sure if I was ever in love with him as a person."

"I don't understand." Ginny took a sip of her coffee, thought for a moment, then added another cube of sugar.

"I don't know quite how to explain it. He saved my life on more than one occasion and he was there for me in the thick of it after the war when my nightmares were at their worst." Hermione shrugged as she stirred her coffee. "I think… I think I was in love with all that he did for me. Ron was good to me," she laughed a bit, "hell, he was good _for_ me when I needed him. But in the end, he was more of a security blanket at Hogwarts and after the war. We needed each other then and we had each other. So now… we've moved on, but I miss what we had."

Silence fell between the two witches for a moment.

"I think I know what you mean," Ginny said as she sipped her coffee. "There were a couple of guys before Harry—" Hermione snorted slightly. Ginny gave her a dark look, but smiled. "Alright, so there were a fair few. But, I do understand what you mean. Every guy that I've dated before Harry has always been a security blanket, like you said. It was never meant to last. As a kid, you put your blanket down one day and you don't pick it up again. So I guess I do understand. I'm just sorry I won't have you as a sister-in-law." Ginny's good-natured humor returned with a smile.

Hermione nudged her. "Hey, I still have a chance. Charlie is still single!"

Ginny gave a laugh. "If he ever decides to pay attention to anyone but the latest dragon hatchlings, I'll let you know."

"Keep me posted!" Hermione replied with chuckle. "Are you free before New Year's dinner?" She drained her coffee and sent the empty cup into the sink with a lazy flick of her wand.

"Should be, why do you ask?"

"I was thinking about popping down to the shops in Diagon Alley. I need some potion ingredients to refill my supply." Hermione gave an excited grin. "My entrance exams for Cypress and Southers are tomorrow."

Ginny gasped. "That's tomorrow? Aren't you nervous?"

Hermione replied with a shrug and took the letter from the Healer's school off her bulletin board. "Not really. I think I could get in very well just on merit." She handed Ginny the letter:

 _CYPRESS & SOUTHERS INSTITUTE  
_ _OF MAGICAL HEALING AND MEDICINE  
_ _est. 1667 | West London, England  
_ _.oOOOo._

 _17 December 1999_

 _To Miss Hermione J. Granger,_

 _It is my great privilege and honor to grant you preliminary admittance to the Cypress and Southers Institute of Magical Healing and Medicine. Please note that full admittance to the Institute is contingent on the passing of a series of practical entrance examinations._

 _Though your application essay and academic transcript were both stunning in their own right, I can assure you that they were wholly unnecessary. Your heroic deeds to the British Wizarding community are merits of their own degree._

 _However, this noted, you must still sit the entrance examinations. They will be given on the second of January, 2000 in the Augustine Cypress Medical Ward. This building is located on the eastern section of the campus. A map has been enclosed for your ease of travel, as well the day's schedule and a list of items you will need to bring into the examinations. You will be inspected upon arrival for any dishonest supplies and spells._

 _Please arrive promptly at eight o'clock in the morning. Testing begins at eight thirty, no late admittance._

 _We anticipate your presence with great eagerness._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor Thomas C. Holloway  
_ _Dean of Admissions and Medical Potions Master  
_ _Cypress and Southers Institute of Magical Healing and Medicine_

Ginny whistled, impressed. "That's brilliant, Hermione! You have to show Mum this if you haven't already!" She handed it back.

"I'll bring it along. I know I told her, but I think she would love to see the letter." Hermione looked at the clock on the wall. "A quarter to two… Would you like to go down to the shops now?"

Ginny checked her Muggle wristwatch, which, in a tinny voice sang – _"Don't forget dinner with Mum and Dad tonight!"_ – to a jaunty tune.

She smiled at her watch and said, "Yeah, I could do that. We can go to New Year's dinner right afterwards." Arthur had given the watch to her as a gift, insisting to Molly that there were no enchantments on it. Later, Ginny found out it had been charmed to sing a schedule if one was given to it by the wearer. Ginny had been thrilled; the mix of Muggle and magic items was more fascinating to her than it had been in her youth.

Slinging on a jumper and her beaded bag, Hermione lead Ginny over to the fireplace, where they each took a small handful of Floo Powder and said: "The Leaky Cauldron!"

As they emerged in the hustle and bustle of the wizarding pub, Hermione decided to put the more scandalous details of the night prior out of her mind and focus on a fun afternoon with Ginny.

* * *

 _(I have to say, I'm excited. This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. Updates won't be on a set schedule, but they should be up about every one to two weeks. Thanks for reading!)_


	2. Bombshells Left and Right

**Chapter Two – Bombshells Left and Right**

Ingredient gathering had been difficult, Hermione reflected as she and Ginny left the Apothecary later that afternoon. She understood the vagueness of the ingredients needed was to make sure no one could study ahead of time, but Hermione believed in being prepared. Frustrated was only the half of the emotions clouding her thoughts.

Ginny scanned over the letter and small list of ingredients for the umpteenth time, a frown creasing her face. "I mean, it is all very general. They probably have more specific ingredients at the exams."

"It isn't very helpful, is it?" Hermione said briskly, annoyance tingeing the tone of her voice. "It's not like I'm going to cheat. That's not ethical; especially on a medical exam."

"I don't think the rule is there for people like you," Ginny said, snorting into her hand. She tried and failed to wipe the smile off her face as Hermione gave her a scathing glare. "Try as you might, Hermione, I'm not scared of you!"

Hermione laughed. "If only it were otherwise," she said.

Diagon Alley was crowded, but not enough that they were walking shoulder to shoulder with the other patrons of the many shops. Hermione was grateful for the crowd; she and Ginny were able to pass through without anyone recognizing them. Her knitted blue hat and large sunglasses helped to obscure her face from anyone who wanted to get a good look. Ginny was wearing a green hat, sporting the golden logo of the Holyhead Harpies, the Quidditch team she was trying out for in the coming spring. The two witches looked like perfectly normal young ladies out in the town. That was how they preferred it.

Suddenly, Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm. She yanked her against the windows of Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. "Look!" She hissed, pointing through the crowd.

"Where am I supposed to—?"

She got the message though, when she looked across the street at Flourish and Blotts and saw a familiar mop of red hair. Ron was standing right inside the bookshop, next to a young woman with long honey blonde hair. She and Ron were talking and laughing about a book that she was holding.

Ginny nudged Hermione in the ribs with her elbow. "That must be this Cass girl he was talking about!"

The two witches watched as the other two turned and walked further into Flourish and Blotts. The small encounter left Hermione feeling dazed and slightly empty. She hadn't wanted to believe that Ron could be happy without her. It was a selfish thought that startled her. Melancholy settled in as she realized that maybe it was for the best that they had separated. It had been months; why did she still feel this way? Her mind traveled unwillingly back to the night before. She had laughed carelessly with Malfoy. They had enjoyed themselves. True, they had been drunk, but what did it matter if they were having fun? Had she and Ron ever felt that way? Were they simply infatuated with each other? No, she had loved Ron. He hadn't felt the same. Had he ever? Hermione tried to wrangle her own thoughts in. What was she thinking? She and Ron had a mutual break up. She and Malfoy had been drunk and stupid. She had just told herself this morning that there was no way that he would ever move past his prejudices.

"…run into them in the shop. What do you think?"

Ginny had said something, but Hermione would be damned if she knew what had been said. At Hermione's blank stare, Ginny gave her an odd look. "Are you feeling alright, Hermione? Still hungover?"

"No. I've just had a starling epiphany about myself and my actions." Hermione pursed her lips. "I don't really want to talk about it here and now. Perhaps after my exams tomorrow I can join you for tea and then we can talk about it. It's nothing serious." She tried her best to give a winning smile to her friend, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace.

"If you say so," Ginny replied, not believing her in the slightest. She looked at her watch, which sang: _"Don't be late for dinner!"_

"Well, we best listen to your watch," Hermione said, trying to avert Ginny's attention from the previous conversation. "Why don't we go back to the Burrow early and see if Molly needs any help with preparing for dinner?"

Ginny pointed her finger right in Hermione's face. "Don't think I've forgotten about your episodes of self-doubt or whatever it is. Tomorrow, I intend to get to the bottom of this mood you've decided to be in since last night."

Hands raised in mock surrender, Hermione let a real smile work its way onto her face. "Alright, Ginny, alright. We'll hash it all out. Now let's get over to the Burrow."

"It's probably going to be easier to Floo in instead of apperating. The kitchen gets crowded on New Years," Ginny said as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Oh please, your house is always crowded," Hermione said as they walked up the road back past the Apothecary. "Molly is so fond of having people over that she—" The sentence remained unfinished as she collided with a man coming out of the Apothecary, knocking his bag of ingredients to the street.

"Oh, Merlin's beard…" The man said in an exasperated voice.

"Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," Hermione said quickly, bending over to pick up his dropped items.

"No, please, it was my fault, I—"

Hermione looked up into the face of Draco Malfoy, who looked even paler than usual as their eyes met.

Silence lapsed between them as they stared in horror at the other.

Finally, Malfoy broke the silence.

A curt nod. "Granger."

Averted eyes. "Malfoy."

"Thank you for your help." He stood and shuffled his ingredients back into their places in their bag. Hermione stood with him. She was afraid her face was turning redder by the second. He inclined his head to Ginny. "Weasley."

Knit brows. "Malfoy—?"

"I hope nothing was damaged." Hermione interrupted. She glanced at his face briefly before back to the bag.

"It all seems in order," he replied stiffly, avoiding eye contact.

"Well… That's good."

"Yes. It is."

"We have to—"

"I need—"

"Right," they said together.

Ginny glanced between the two, her red brows arching in confusion and annoyance.

"Happy New Year," Hermione said softly. She looked directly into his eyes, hoping to find the humanity she seen had the evening prior. He stared, lost for words for a moment. Brown and grey eyes mingled for just a few moments longer than they intended. He looked away, pink cheeked.

"Happy New Year." The muttered response was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Pursing his lips, Malfoy quickly turned on his heel before walking a few feet away and disapperating.

Ginny took hold of Hermione's arm and whirled her around. "You have something to tell me, don't you?" She demanded. Her brown eyes were sparkling with understanding and fury. "I don't think it should wait until tea tomorrow."

Hermione didn't know where to start. "I…"

"Don't even think about making up some ridiculous story!" Ginny said. She pulled her into a student supply store. "Start talking."

The shop around them seemed to hum with activity. Students home for the holiday were getting in last minute shopping before they returned to Hogwarts. Hermione found herself wondering if she ever looked like they did: young and full of hope for the future. Her future seemed to be death by the angry red-headed witch in front of her.

"When did you start being so cordial with Malfoy?!" Ginny hissed angrily.

"I would hardly call that cordial," Hermione said defensively as she took off the sunglasses and tried to not make eye contact. She picked up several rolls of parchment that the sign next to them proclaimed to be handmade in Brazil. _"Favorite of the Castelobruxo student!"_ the sign said in garish orange letters. Despite the hideous advertisement, the quality was impeccable. Maybe she would purchase a few.

"Don't ignore me!" Ginny said, snatching the parchment from Hermione's hands. "I deserve answers! My best friend can't go around fraternizing with the enemy!"

Hermione snorted until she saw Ginny was serious. "The enemy?" She repeated in disbelief. "We won the war, Ginny. It's over. Why is he still the enemy to you?"

"Why isn't he to you?!"

Hermione's answer caught in her throat as she looked around. Several parents adverted their eyes to their squabbling. "Look, Ginny," she said, lowering her voice, "I don't really know how to explain this to you without a lot more time a less prying audience." She glared behind Ginny at a blonde woman, who flushed and quickly looked away, steering her daughter with both hands.

Ginny seemed to pick up on this at the same time. "I know you're right on some level," she lowered her voice and leaned in. "But… dammit Hermione, don't you remember what he did to you all through school? What his sadistic family put you through?"

"I will never forget." Hermione felt herself involuntarily twitch as she remembered the high-pitched laugh echoing through the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. The knife. The blood. The scars. It would never fade.

Ginny paled, eyes flicking to her forearm. "Hermione… Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't… I just…"

Hermione gripped Ginny's hand. "It's okay. It's fine. Let's just talk about it later?" She offered a smile.

Eyes swimming with tears, Ginny nodded. "I'm sorry…" she whispered.

"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." They slung their arms around each other and left the shop quietly.

* * *

The Burrow was buzzing with activity. Bill and Charlie were playing Exploding Snap in the living room while Percy and Arthur debated the finer points of how a microwave worked. The second Ginny and Hermione Floo'd into the house, they were given something to do by a frazzled Molly Weasley. Ginny charmed the peeler to take the skin off the potatoes, much to the chagrin of the potatoes, which hopped away from the peeler every time it got close.

"Oh, Ginny, for heaven's sake, you don't charm them both!" Molly said in an exasperated voice. As she entered the kitchen, she gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek and a rushed: "So glad you could make it, Hermione dear!"

"Lovely to see you too, Molly," Hermione said, trying to hide her smile as Molly began a thorough lecture to Ginny on charming kitchen utensils.

Hermione and Charlie did their best to hold back their laugher as they were given their job of setting the table. As they did, they entered into an unspoken battle of one-ups-manship. Each folded napkin was more elegant and complex with each wave of their wand. The mismatched forks and knives quickly found their places with another wave. By the time Ginny and Molly had finished bickering about how much butter to put in the potatoes, the table was set.

"Now see here, Herms," Charlie's affectionate nickname for her was one that only he could use. "My napkin Swedish Shortsnout is clearly the winner." The little dragon creation spit a few shreds of cloth in place of fire.

The griffin that Hermione had made sat in front of Arthur's set. It preened its feathers smugly. "Really?" She said mildly. "If I had known it was a competition I could've put more effort into beating you."

Bill whistled and admired the Thunderbird at his seat that beat its wings every now and again. "I dunno, Charlie. I think Hermione has you beat on this one." He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Maybe next year!"

While the two brothers argued about the napkins, Molly called Hermione into the kitchen. "Can you take this plate up to George, Hermione dear?" She was handed a well-worn dinner tray. On it was a plate stacked high with mashed potatoes, a large hunk of braised rabbit, a piece of homemade bread and a pat of butter, home-grown green beans, and small bowl of strawberries.

Her heart sank as she looked at it. "He's not joining us again?"

Molly fumbled with the carving fork briefly. "No," she said quietly. Melancholy lurked behind every word as she continued: "He'll come down again when he's ready." When that 'ready' was continued to be a mystery. George had emerged from his room only for an hour or two to give and receive gifts the most recent Christmas morning, but had retreated back upstairs before he had eaten any of the holiday quiche. Hermione had begun a sad tradition of bringing him a plate for every meal on a holiday since the previous Halloween.

Taking the tray in hand, Hermione left the kitchen and began climbing up the stairs to what used to be the twins' room. As soon as she got to the landing, she noticed how remarkably quiet it was. George's door was slightly ajar. There was a lump in her throat as she approached.

"Knock knock," she said quietly, tapping her foot on the doorframe.

There was a squeak of a bedframe, light footsteps, and the haggard face of George Weasley appeared in the slit of the door. "Well I'll be damned," he said with a humorless smile. "Hullo, Hermione. Must be a holiday. What day is it, anyway?"

It took a great amount of personal constitution to not cry when she saw him. Before the war, George had been a clean-shaven man with warm brown eyes and a mischievous twinkle in each. Since the death of Fred, his red beard was now to his chest, streaked with grey at the age of just twenty-one. His temples, too, had been touched with silver hair; his eyes were tired and dull with grief.

Clearing the catch in her throat, Hermione smiled at him. "Happy New Year, George," she extended the dinner tray to him.

He accepted it with that same lacking smile. "Happy New Year to you, Hermione. I'm so glad I have you to look after me." He placed a kiss on her cheek.

She was sure he meant well by the statement, but it was almost too much to bear. "Please come down, George," she said, her voice cracking. "Please? We miss you. We all love you… so, so much. I know it's hard, but it'll be easier if we can help you." Hermione wasn't sure what to say anymore. If she said much more, she was sure she would start crying.

George shook his head. "I can't, Hermione. I'm sorry." He placed the tray on the dresser next to the door. A thin layer of dust lay on top of it. George placed his hands on the frame and handle of the door to shut it. "I appreciate you coming— Oof…"

Hermione threw her arms around him, holding him as tight as she could. She wouldn't let him slip away. Not if she could help it. Her grip tightened around his thin frame, as if by her will and her hands alone, she could ground him and keep him safe. "I know we never talked much at Hogwarts," she cried, tears staining his ragged sweater, "or really even during the war… But I want to help you. P-Please let me in. I'll do w-what ever I can to help you. Just don't… Don't…" She couldn't finish.

Despite months of seclusion, his arms felt strong as they embraced her. "I'm scared, Hermione," his voice shook, but no tears fell. He bowed his head against her shoulder, as if he were praying to find salvation. "I'm so scared."

"Come down, George," she looked up at him, pleading. "Come with me."

He looked away and broke their embrace. "I… I can't. Not yet. I just…" Every excuse seemed to flash before his eyes. "I just can't."

Hermione took his hand. "Baby steps, then. You can't run before you walk. Nor walk before you crawl." She offered a teary smile.

George sighed deeply. "Thank you. I mean it," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor. "Day after New Year's is a holiday, isn't it?" He shrugged and said, "I guess this means you'll have to bring me dinner again. Shame." There it was. That was a real smile.

She returned it and chuckled, despite the tears. "Yeah, what a shame."

"See you tomorrow?"

"I promise."

The door shut softly and Hermione let out the breath she seemed to be holding. She would not fail. Hermione Jean Granger had never failed a single thing in her life and she would not start now.

After she wiped all the tears from her face and took a few deep breaths, she went back downstairs to rejoin the Weasleys. There was a slight commotion as the fireplace lit up and Harry Potter stepped through, adjusting his glasses and wiping soot from his winter traveling cloak.

"So sorry I'm late everyone. Happy New Year!" He said, tapping his wand to the clasp on the cloak. It unbuckled itself, shook off, and then floated to the hook on the wall with his name on it. Hermione and Harry's names had joined the family wall ages ago, but it made them both smile every time.

"Good to see you, Harry!" Hermione gave him a hug and smiled cheerfully.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, returning the smile. "Where's my favorite Weasley?"

Charlie draped himself over Harry. "I'm right here, my _love!"_ He fluttered his eyelashes in an exaggerated way and made kissing noises.

Harry grimaced, but smiled. "Good to see you, too, Charlie."

Ginny slapped her brother and greeted Harry with a kiss and New Years wish. The Weasleys all welcomed their other son and brother with open arms. "Where's Ron?" Harry asked as he sat down at the table. His napkin flapped its wings and slithered in a circle. "What's this?" He gawked at the creation.

"Ron seems to be running more late than you this time, Harry," Arthur said as he too sat in his own chair at the head of the table. "Now isn't that lovely," he said, admiring the griffin.

"That, Harry, is a Quetzalcoatl," Charlie swooped in. "It is an extinct type of dragon; also called a feathered serpent. It was worshipped by the ancient Aztecs as one of their gods." He mock-glared up at Hermione. "It's totally better than Herms's griffin, don't you think?"

Harry shrugged. "I like them both. They're beautiful."

The fire place lit up again and two figures stepped through.

"About time, Ron," Percy said from his seat, where a Peruvian Vipertooth dragon napkin was sniffing under the plate.

"Be still, Percy," Molly chided. "Well come in, Ron let's meet this friend of yours!"

Ginny exchanged and amused look with Hermione.

Ron stepped into the kitchen, wiping soot from his hair. "Hello all!" He greeted with a smile. It didn't seem to meet his eyes. In fact, he looked quite nervous. "I um… I brought someone I'd like you to meet. This…" he pulled the other person into the kitchen, "…is my… Well this is…"

"My… my name is Cassius Holloway," the newcomer said, also looking frightened with nerves.

Ron weaved his fingers with the other man's, now more defiant in his expression. "This is Cas. He's… my boyfriend."

Cassius Holloway was taller than Ron with tightly curled black hair and earthen colored eyes. He was dressed in very professional looking grey robes with a red and blue cravat, which was pinned by a small pearl. The colors looked very fashionable and bright against his dark skin. Hermione's eyes widened. Ginny looked at her from across the table, struck silent. Not Cass. _Cas._ One 's.' Not Cassandra. Cassius. _Holloway?_ Boyfriend. Ron was—

"Oh, silly me, I thought your name was Cassandra," Molly moved around the table and smiled warmly as she shook Cassius's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, dear. I'm Molly Weasley, Ron's mother."

"Arthur Weasley," he stood and gave a firm shake to Cassius as well. "Ron's father. These are almost all of our children," he went around the table, listing each of their names. "There are a fair few, so don't worry about not getting all the names on your first go."

"Yeah," Bill said from the other end of the table, "he still struggles with us all, even the ones without red hair." He winked at Harry and Hermione.

"Well, sit down boys, there's plenty to eat!" Molly started scooping out portions of mashed potatoes when she looked up at the dumbfounded expression on her son's face. "Something the matter, Ron?"

He and Cassius had not moved from their standing positions. Ron seemed lost for words as he looked between the faces of his family members. "You… You aren't…" He stared at Cassius and then to his father. "You aren't furious with us? With me? For being gay?"

"Ron, there's nothing to worry about," Arthur said in a soothing voice. He beckoned his youngest son and his boyfriend to sit by him. "We aren't in the Dark Ages anymore. Now come get some rabbit."

Ron and Cassius both seemed to deflate as they let out a breath. Ron's eyes swam with tears. "I thought…"

"Don't be daft, Ron," Percy said, spooning a helping of green beans onto his plate. "You can't be rid of us that easily."

"As if," Ginny agreed, smiling.

Harry took a sip of his Firewhiskey. "You're stuck with us whether you like it or not."

"Do sit, Ronald," Hermione chimed in. "Your food will get cold." She knew as well as anyone that the plates had warming charms placed on them and the food would continue to be the perfect temperature. There was a tickle in the back of her mind as she looked at Cassius. _Cassius Holloway…_ she thought as they moved around the table. _Where have I heard that name?_

Ron smiled now, a real smile. "Right. Let's… Yes!" He seemed positively giddy as he dug in to his rabbit and mashed potatoes. Not even nerves could dampen his appetite.

"So," Molly said once everyone had been served, "how did the two of you meet?"

"Holloway!" Hermione suddenly cried out.

All heads turned to her. Cassius looked startled.

"That's how I know you!" She fumbled in her pocket for the letter of acceptance. "I knew I had seen your name somewhere!" She unfolded the letter. "Are you related to Professor Thomas Holloway, Dean of Admissions at Cypress and Southers?"

Cassius looked a bit more relaxed. "Oh… Yes! That is my father. He's also the medical potions master." He smiled at her. He was quite handsome. "Are you taking exams there tomorrow?"

"Yes, I was accepted this past December," Hermione said, passing the letter to Molly's outstretched hand.

"Cheers to you, Hermione!" Charlie said. "That's a tough school to get accepted to."

"Oh, Hermione dear that's just wonderful!" Molly beamed. "We'll have a healer in the family!"

"Hear, hear!" Arthur raised his glass and the others followed suit. Hermione blushed deeply as they toasted her future success. "So, Cassius. Do you think your old man could swing Hermione into the institute for us?"

Cassius coughed into his drink and laughed nervously. "I don't think that is something I could do, sir."

Molly rolled her eyes at her husband. "He is just pulling your leg, dear. Don't fret over him." She winked down the table.

Hermione met Ginny's eyes more than once as the dinner continued. They seemed to share the unspoken agreement that they were more than happy for Ron. Many of her worries had been lifted as she watched Ron talk easily with Cassius, who seemed to relax more as the dinner carried on. They seemed truly happy together. Hermione took a sip of her wine and smiled into her green beans. No wonder she and Ron didn't work well together.

* * *

Cypress and Southers Institute of Magical Healing and Medicine was hidden within the West side of London. Behind a classy department store was a marble archway that led into the brick of the opposite building. There was a historical plaque on it that read:

" _Site of a plague hospital from the late 17_ _th_ _century.  
The hospital was in the process of being rebuilt before  
_ _the war with colonial America, but the funding was cut  
_ _due to war with France. The building was torn down,  
_ _save the marble arch of the entrance. Many citizens and  
_ _doctors lost their lives to plague on this site."_

Hermione took out her letter and looked at the back of the equipment list. In sweeping handwriting it said: _"17, America, France, plague. Going down."_

She looked back at the plaque and took out her wand. She tapped it to each of the words in their respective order. The brick shimmered and revealed a sprawling quad through it. Hermione raised her eyebrows, impressed to say the very least. She stepped through the archway and the brick solidified behind her. Hermione was stunned to see a university campus of similar layout to Oxford, but with gleaming white medical buildings instead of old brick.

It was a beautiful campus, Hermione thought as she followed her map to the clearly labeled Augustine Cypress Medical Ward. There were several other prospective students lined up outside the building. Hermione glanced at her watch. The hands pointed to 7:59. Right on time. She smiled and joined the queue. It moved quickly enough and she approached a few Aurors who were having the waiting witches and wizards walk through golden, almost water-like arches. _Detects dishonest magic,_ Hermione thought, again impressed. What a level of security, though, she mused when it was her turn to pass through.

An Auror recognized her and smiled broadly. "My nine-year-old daughter thinks you're just terrific," he said, beaming with pride.

Hermione smiled warmly. "Thank you very much, Auror…?"

"Oh, Davies is the name. Clarence Davies. I think you went to school with my brother, Roger. He was a few years ahead of you, though." He waved his wand over her bag and it dinged. "You're clear, Miss Granger."

"I remember him! He was very kind. Ravenclaw, right?" Hermione removed her winter cloak to hang on the pegs by the lecture hall where the testing was being given.

Auror Davies beamed. "You have a good memory! Yep, Rog and I were both Ravenclaw. That's what I'm hoping for my daughter. She's a smart one. Catherine is her name. She likes to be called Carrie. Very sweet." He opened the door for her. "Well, anyway, good luck!"

"Thank you," Hermione said as she walked into the lecture hall. The sweeping room seemed to be full of stairs and long, curved tables. An enormous marker board stood at the front of the room, where several different colored markers were writing down rules and creating diagrams. There were about fifty other prospective students already in the hall: some were chatting amiably with friends and others sat reading books or looking over the board of notes.

Hermione slid into a chair in the front of the room. She looked around, only seeing one man next to her. "Hello," she said to him. "My name is Hermione Granger, what's—?"

The blond head whipped around and—once again—Hermione found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

"Oh dear Merlin…" she whispered.

* * *

 _(It was a snowy day today in Pennsylvania. The courts were closed, which means that I had all day to write! Thanks to Kara, who always critiques my work before posting. See you guys in a week and half or so! Thanks for reading!)_


	3. A Brave New World

**Chapter Three – A Brave New World**

There had been many times in Hermione's life when she had been faced with perilous danger. Death Eaters had chased her through a forest, she had ridden a dragon from London to Scotland, and she had fought up against one of the most evil wizards of all time. Voldemort and his followers had been her greatest fear for years. There had been nothing quite as dangerous as fighting for her life and those of her friends as the castle she had called home collapsed and burned around her.

So why was being seated next to Draco Malfoy at a medical exam so utterly terrifying?

Malfoy seemed to have decided that there was a very interesting speck on the table in front of him. Hermione found that the way the markers were dotting their I's was too fascinating not to look at. Blush crept up her neck and made her cheeks hot.

"Fair weather today."

Hermione turned and stared. Malfoy was blushing, too. _Why?_

"Yes, very nice for January," Hermione followed up, trying to pretend she had never met him. She winced slightly as the memory of his lips on hers flashed unwillingly into her mind.

"The muggle weatherman predicted snow."

"Really? I hope not, that would put a damper on some plans I have for the week." She made a mental note: Malfoy reads the muggle newspapers and/or watches muggle news programs.

Malfoy shifted in his seat and looked at her. "Are we really going to keep this up?" He murmured under his breath, keeping an eye on the students around them. Hermione didn't know how to answer that. "I think we need to talk about this. I know we both will get good marks on the exams and become full-time students. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other again."

Hermione nodded, a tiny motion that she hoped he didn't miss as he scanned the room. "A temporary truce seems to be the most logical course of action."

He rolled his eyes. "Typical. You and your logic."

"Listen here, Malfoy!" She hissed and leaned over to fix him with her best glare. "I will not have you putting my future career in jeopardy because of your ridiculous need to torment me. Grow up. We will be cordial in school and I hope to Merlin I don't see hide nor hair of you anywhere else. You will not come near me again unless it is a dire emergency. Are we clear?"

A dark cloud seemed to gather over him. Was that…? No. He couldn't have just looked disappointed when she said that. Of course not. He was angry. As always. Smug and angry. Just this time… without the smug. Disappointed and angry. Disappointed in her?

 _Pull yourself together!_

"Crystal clear," Malfoy responded crisply.

"Good." Hermione turned back to her own position and changed the arrangement of her parchment and quill as nerves nipped at her.

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?"

She turned to her right and saw a handsome, round-faced man sit down next to her. He unwound the yellow and black scarf from his neck and smiled broadly. "Do you not remember me?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley? Is that really you?" Hermione smiled back and shook his hand. Justin wore glasses now. The black, square frames made him look older, professional. His temples were flecked with premature grey and his brown eyes seemed to have lost some of their cheerful gleam. "It's been almost three years!"

Justin grinned as he unpacked his bag. "Yeah, I think the last time we were in the same room, it was being blown apart by Death Eaters."

Hermione chuckled. "Nonsense, you were there at the re-opening of Hogwarts! It was a much happier occasion than that."

"That's true enough." Justin said with a tiny smile.

Silence lapsed between them for an awkward amount of time. Hermione wasn't quite sure how to speak to Justin. They hadn't even seen each other in nearly three years. Even before then, they had barely spoken a word to one another. He seemed to be the only person she knew in the room other than Malfoy, who was doodling on his parchment. Hermione hoped that he was just going to use that as scrap paper.

"Pardon me for saying so, but you don't strike me as the medical type." Justin said, looking as though he was trying not to offend her.

Hermione turned back to look at him and smiled. "I started on track for a job at the Ministry. I had it in my mind that I could make a difference by making laws and help rise up against injustice."

"Well, you sure are good at that," Justin said warmly, placing his quill behind his ear.

Hermione beamed at the compliment. "I appreciate that, Justin. But it wasn't until about four or so months ago that I realized that the brunt of the war had its effect on people's minds and bodies. People suffered and died and though it came from poor government leadership, that's not my fight anymore. Well," she revised her statement, "not in a literal sense of the word. I will do my best to help advise and petition, but Minister Shaklebolt has done wonders for Wizarding Britain and we have a new generation of Aurors like Harry and Ron." She pulled her hair back into a bun as the clock ticked closer to 8:30. "So what can I do, then? I can fight disease and injury. I can help recovering war veterans and sick children. I've done enough fighting with the law to last a life time."

"Head of St. Mungo's today, Minister of Magic tomorrow," Justin said with a laugh. "I'm sure you'll do great things wherever you plant your feet, Hermione."

"You always have such a sunny outlook, Justin." She said. "That's a gift in this field, I've heard." She tilted her head and said: "Though I must redirect your question back onto you. You don't strike me as a medical man, yourself."

Justin shrugged, almost apologetically. "It's true; blood makes me a little queasy. But as you said, the war claimed lives and destroyed bodies and minds. You take care of the cuts and scrapes, I'll take care of the brains."

She nodded. "It's a deal, then!" And they shook on it.

Under the clock at the front of the room, there was a statue of a large white bird with pearlescent wings. It fluttered its beautiful wings and then tapped its claws on a set of bells that were lined up beneath it, signaling the half hour. Almost as soon as the last chime sounded, the door to the lecture hall opened and a stooping man walked in.

He was portly and leaned on a finely carved cane, around which a snake was wrapped. Dark skin free of many wrinkles did not betray his age like his hair did. Save the bald spot on his head, what hair he had left was thin and white. His Healer robes were clean and pressed, and upon the lapel was a pin that Hermione thought looked like intricate knot-work.

The elderly man hit his cane on the ground for attention, though it was barely needed. Every prospective student was already sitting at rapt attention, staring at the man that entered the hall.

"I am Professor Thomas Holloway." His deep, velvety voice filled the room without needing to be raised. Hermione noted the shape of his nose and eyes. Like father, like son. Cassius was a younger, fitter, spitting image of his father. "Welcome to Cypress and Southers Institute of Magical Healing and Medicine. Look to your right and then to your left."

Baffled, the prospective students did as they were told.

Hermione smiled at Justin and scowled at Malfoy. She was thrown off by Malfoy's neutral expression. It was pensive, not harsh. A slight twinge of guilt kicked in her brain. She attempted to offer a cordial smile. She was sure it looked more like a grimace.

"One of the people around you will not be attending this academy," Professor Holloway rumbled. A heavy silence met his words. "This is not your primary education. You cannot hope to become a Healer simply by studying the material. Someone's life is on the line!" He barked, loudly hitting his cane on the floor. Hermione and Justin both jumped. Professor Holloway offered the assembled students a wry smile. "I believe it was British Auror Alastor Moody that preferred the phrase 'constant vigilance.'" Hermione smiled at the memory of the cantankerous Auror. "Apply that phrase in your testing today. Quills up!" He raised his cane and pointed at the statue of the large bird. "There is nothing a Caladrius does not see. You will not be given time to explain your cheating if you are caught. Now begin." Professor Holloway tapped his cane on the ground once more.

Parchment appeared before every student and they all quickly began their exams.

* * *

"Time is up."

Hermione's cry of indignation was not alone as every piece of parchment disappeared and reappeared in Professor Holloway's hands.

"He can't do that; clearly no one was finished!" Malfoy growled, anger darkening his countenance. Several students seemed to be muttering similar ideas.

"I am aware, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Holloway's dark eyes burned holes into Malfoy's startled face. "You must do what you can in the time that you are given. You will often not have a designated time to complete a surgery. You will say how long it may take and you reach for that." He looked around the room. "But then the patient's heart stops. Suddenly you have no time to think about your next incision. Your only thoughts now should be what charms you know to restart his heart so that his children won't grow up without a father.

"But maybe his heart doesn't stop. Maybe there are too many things that can go wrong and no spell can save him. Now his wife looks on in disgust as you present her husband to her: a voiceless vegetable with no hope of a normal life. She looks at her wedding ring with such hesitance you begin to wonder if love is even real." Professor Holloway seemed to drink in the stunned silence with the quiet satisfaction of a predator. Malfoy was whiter than a bed sheet.

A smile passed over Professor Holloway's lips. "But there is also no time to prepare yourself for the sheer joy of a mother as she stares at her daughter in her arms for the first time. As a Healer, you can never really be ready to fight back tears as you mend a man's back and he can go back to his life and hold his children in his arms." Professor Holloway wrapped his fingers around his cane. "You never have the time you think you do. You must use it with precision and care." He smiled. "You are dismissed to the next portion of your testing."

Chairs scraped along the ground as fifty people all stood at once. There was murmuring immediately at the impromptu lesson they received.

"He's absolutely marvelous," Justin gushed, looking positively starry-eyed. "What a way to stun the crowd. His accent sounded a bit funny, don't you think?"

Hermione felt dumbstruck. A resolve burned in her. He was her ticket to becoming the greatest Healer in wizarding history. If books and her own intuition only got her so far, then perhaps becoming Professor Holloway's protégé would get her the rest of the way. She gripped her quill, steeling herself for the rest of the testing day.

Justin continued to ramble at her and she barely noticed. She was – in fact – so absorbed in her own thoughts that she missed Malfoy staring at her the entire way to the potions laboratory.

* * *

"A Draught of Peace?" Malfoy scoffed as they got to their tables for practical potion brewing. "We brewed this in our fifth year."

"You have many astute observations to make today, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Holloway said dryly from the front of the room. "I can only imagine what a pleasure you were to teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione was less fortunate than Justin in covering her laugh. Malfoy fixed her with a look of the deepest loathing.

The potions laboratory was immaculate, well-lit, and smelled of cleaning fluid. There were high benches with stools around each. A cauldron on its own fire sat at each stool. Deep, gleaming sinks sat next to each bench.

"You will do well to note that healing and medicine is not all about the physical injury," Professor Holloway continued. Behind him on a marker board, one of the pens wrote the instructions for brewing the potion. "The mind can only take so much. Many wizards have succumbed to mental strain. The Draught of Peace can help those who are anxious and over stimulated." He once again rapped his cane on the floor. "Begin brewing."

There was a rush as all the students dove for ingredients on the shelves around the edge of the room. With the knowledge of an unspecified time limit, there was a certain sense of urgency.

"Good luck, Justin!" Hermione said, filling her flasks with powdered moonstone and hellebore.

Justin smiled and counted out enough porcupine quills for each of them. "Best of luck to you too, Hermione!" They each took their seats, working quickly.

Malfoy took the stool next to Hermione, this time of his own volition. What was his problem? She couldn't get past the thought that something was wrong with him. No doubt it was coincidence that they both happened to enroll and take their entrance exams on the same day. That was a factor that was out of their control. But why did fate seem to be pushing them together in the first place? She turned the heat down and let her potion simmer. It needed to turn pink before she added the next ingredient.

She chanced a look sideways at Malfoy, who was methodically measuring out a vial of hellebore syrup. His concentration was singular as he used a dropper to gather the precise amount. The porcupine quills were already in the mortar and pestle, waiting to be ground. He was so prepared. This must be something he was truly passionate about. Hermione remembered that Malfoy had always been good at potions; it was one of the classes that he particularly excelled in. Though they had always vied for the top marks, Hermione had always come out in the lead. She had always known him as a snotty git. She had never stopped to consider what a clever man Malfoy obviously was.

Maybe in another life, he would've been a Ravenclaw. Maybe in that same dimension, Hermione would've been a Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat had toyed between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for quite a while before it made of its mind. If Malfoy had been raised differently and she had a quicker wit, perhaps they would've been housemates. In this parallel world in her mind, would they have ever been friends? It was strange to find that the answer was near immediate. Yes. They would've been friends. They would have been competitive with each other: constantly trying to one up the other for house points and spend hours debating the password to the Ravenclaw common room. What a strange world that would have been.

Hermione stopped to consider Malfoy as she ground her porcupine quills. He must've felt her gaze on him and flicked his eyes up to meet hers.

This time, she didn't look away. She let him stare at her. Something passed between them. Something she couldn't quite place. In that moment, Hermione found that she didn't harbor a hate for him. For that brief second, the chemistry that had occurred on New Year's Eve came back. She smiled at him. He blushed scarlet and tried to concentrate as he looked back at his potion.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie. What had just happened? How incredible it was: the control she seemed to have over him. Perhaps, she thought as she added the powdered porcupine quills, she had more feminine wiles than she anticipated. At the thought she nearly dropped her mortar. In order for that to be true, Malfoy had to like her. Possibly be in—

She clapped a hand to her mouth.

No.

There was no way.

"Hermione, it's alright, you still have time to stir to make it turn orange!" Justin whispered out of the corner of his mouth, pushing her ladle towards her.

She looked at Justin in confusion. He was staring tentatively at the statue of the Caladrius. Its eyes did not turn to them. She suddenly remembered what she was doing. "Of course. Thanks, Justin. I thought I was done for…" She grabbed the ladle and pushed a curly bang out of her face.

She needed to figure out what was going on. No one would react like that after a drunken one-night stand unless the other person meant something to them.

Curse her logical brain.

 _Stop. You're over-reacting. Focus._

Hermione took a deep breath and reached for the powered unicorn horn.

* * *

Professor Holloway walked around the room to every cauldron, stopping to inspect each concoction as a blue Quik-Quotes-Quill took down all of the notes that he was mumbling to himself. He reached Hermione's table and looked at the cauldron of the fourth person at their bench: a girl that Hermione felt bad that she hadn't even noticed.

He began speaking to her in French. She looked nervous as he asked her several questions about her potion. Hermione noted that her own potion, as well as Justin's and Malfoy's were all emitting the telltale silvery vapor of a correctly brewed Draught of Peace. The French girl—no doubt a Beaxbatons graduate—had a rather sulfurous odor coming from her cauldron.

With a reproachful look, Professor Holloway put his hand on her shoulder. _"Bonne chance dans votre avenir, mademoiselle."_ She nodded, eyes swimming with tears, before she quickly left the room. Hermione doubted she would be coming back. How awful.

Malfoy's gaze followed the girl as she left. Hermione thought she was crazy; he almost looked sorry for her.

At last, Professor Holloway finished examining all the potions and told the prospective students to bottle and cork them. When the cauldrons had been emptied, they were Vanished.

Suddenly, without warning, medical dummies took their place. They were all reacting and open and oozing fake blood. Instructional parchment appeared with a snap. Trays of medical instruments popped into existence. "Wands up! Save your patients! Quickly!" Professor Holloway barked.

The room erupted into chaos.

Justin grabbed the manual. "Oh god, oh god, oh god…" He muttered, scanning the numbered instructions. "None of these instructions are in order!"

"What?!" Hermione and Malfoy exclaimed. Malfoy wrenched the instructions from Justin's quivering hands. "There's number one," he said, thrusting it back. "Start reading. Come on, go!"

"Uhh, okay! Start by finding the source of the internal bleeding and stopping as much as you can!"

Malfoy's face was a mask of focus. "Granger, quickly hand me that dropper with Essence of Dittany, will you?"

"I'll handle this, you handle the punctured lung!" Hermione said with defiance. How dare he tell her what to do?

"The bleeding needs to be stopped before that!"

"And I can handle it!"

"I asked you to do something!"

"Who put you in charge?!"

"Shut it, the both of you!" Justin yelled, hitting them both over the head with the instructions. Hermione was stunned by the sudden outburst. Malfoy looked just as flustered. "You have got to work together! Don't be such idiots! The patient is dying, now go!"

"Never knew you to be so bold, Finch-Fletchley," Malfoy jibbed as Hermione handed him the small dropper filled with Essence of Dittany.

"Funny. I always knew you to be an argumentative prick, Malfoy," Justin countered darkly and continued reading the instructions without waiting for a response.

The first time one of the dummies died, it was very loudly as one of the prospective students shrieked when the dummy's lung filled with fluid and burst on him. Two more died from hemorrhaging after the wounds were sewed up, another fell victim to instructions read out of order.

By the end, Malfoy, Hermione, and Justin were the only ones left with a living dummy. They were all sweating bullets as Hermione used a simple charm to pull a muscle group up the arm.

"Make sure the fibers line up, Granger," Malfoy said quietly, his eyes never wavering as he used a suture in Muggle fashion to bind the muscles back in place.

"Knot it here, Malfoy; I'll get more thread," she replied, keeping her concentration on her wand as she reached for the thread.

Justin flipped to the next page. "When this is finished, you need to… here we go: _'sew or staple the wound, depending on the severity. Then use more dittany to speed along the exterior healing.'_ "

"Understood," Malfoy and Hermione said together, not looking up from their work. Neither saw Professor Holloway standing close by, scrutinizing every detail.

"And, done." Justin slumped against the bench, throwing the instructions on the floor.

Hermione and Malfoy both let out breaths and relaxed. Hermione wiped her sopping brow and leaned against the bench with shaking hands. Malfoy gave a wry smile. "That wasn't as bad as we thought."

Hermione glared daggers, wanting so badly to throw a scalpel at him.

"Now," Professor Holloway said as he walked over to their table. "Let us see if he will live." Every student looked on in silence. Professor Holloway took his wand from his jacket pocket and waved it nonchalantly over the dummy.

The dummy sat up—which Hermione noted was extremely off-putting—and looked around before it collapsed back onto the table, gasping for air. It rattled a few times and then perished.

They all stared open mouthed. Malfoy broke the silence by slamming his hands on the bench. Metal instruments clattered. "What did we do wrong?" He demanded, eyes flashing with anger.

"Absolutely nothing," Professor Holloway said blithely.

"Bullshit!" Hermione hissed.

"Control yourself, Miss Granger," Professor Holloway's eyes narrowed and he stared up at her, challengingly. Hermione backed down after a second or two, face red with shame. "This practical exam was not one you were meant to pass."

Malfoy was agog. "So we are just supposed to accept failure?"

"If it was impossible, why even give it as an exam?" Justin demanded. His coiffed hair was a mess as he ran his fingers through it anxiously. The other students looked at them in shock and at Professor Holloway in mortification.

The elder wizard smiled serenely. "Like all impossible tasks, this was meant to teach a lesson." The hush in the room was palatable. He kept his eyes on Hermione. "You cannot save everyone."

Malfoy ground his teeth and balled his fists. Justin looked blankly into the middle third, lost for words. Hermione knew an opportunity when she saw one.

"Watch me."

She didn't flinch from Professor Holloway's steely gaze. She met it with unbridled courage and fury that would make Godric Gryffindor himself proud.

Silence and tension broke when Professor Holloway chuckled deeply. "Yes, I believe I shall."

* * *

"What in the _world_ were you thinking?!" Justin demanded as they left the labs to retrieve their belongings. "Challenging him like that… You could've gotten kicked out before you even started."

"Oh, I don't know, I like this bold Granger," Malfoy commented as he grabbed his very expensive looking, mink-lined traveling cloak. "A bit refreshing, wouldn't you say, Finch-Fletchley?"

"Counter-question, Malfoy: why are you still here?" Justin said, glaring at Malfoy. "I don't remember inviting you in on our conversation."

"Do relax. I'm getting my cloak and leaving," Malfoy fastened his cloak and put on his fur trimmed hat. "Granger, Finch-Fletchley, Happy New Year." With that, he walked out the front doors of the medical building, his pointed shoes clicking on the marble as he went.

Hermione turned to Justin and found him slack-jawed. "Can you believe him?" He squawked, gesturing towards the door indignantly.

"Oh yes," Hermione said with mock anger. "How dare he have the nerve to wish us a happy new year?" Justin blinked in surprise. Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Justin. He has been popping up everywhere recently in the most interesting of places. Maybe he is trying not to be such a twat now that we aren't in school."

"Hello, earth to Hermione," Justin waved a hand in front of her face, "do you not remember that war we fought againt him and his family?"

"I remember a war against Voldemort and his followers, not a crusade against the Malfoys."

"I remember him being on their side!"

"And I remember a reluctant child doing as his parents begged him so that their lives would be spared."

Justin seemed lost for words.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "I know the hatred you harbor, Justin. But it won't change the past. You need to help change the future with me, remember? Malfoy is going to be in every class, but he will just be in the background, just like at Hogwarts. He won't be a figure in our lives. We're going to help people together."

He sighed deeply. "I don't know how you do it, Hermione…" He wound his Hufflepuff scarf around his neck as they exited the building.

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Do what?"

Justin shrugged easily as snow fell upon their shoulders. "Forgive people who probably don't deserve it."

* * *

Teatime rolled around and Hermione attempted to avoid Ginny. No such luck, though. The ginger witch apperated into Hermione's bedroom with a scowl. "Don't even think about hiding, Hermione," she said as Hermione tried to obscure her face with a book.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Seriously, Hermione?"

"Can we talk about this later?"

"Talk about what, exactly?"

"You know…"

"I don't, that's why we're going to talk about it."

Hermione groaned and put the book over her face.

Ginny waltzed over, plucked the book from Hermione's face, bookmarked it and then set it down on the nightstand. "Good book, by the way."

"You've read _The Westing Game_? It's a Muggle book."

Ginny looked at her with an expression akin to disbelief. "You have met my father, correct?" Hermione scoffed and sat up, retying her hair in a bun. "Now come one, out with it," Ginny said, nudging her best friend. "You can tell me."

And Hermione did. Slowly, she began the clunky exposition of the events of New Years Eve and the morning after, followed by the exam and everything that happened during it. As she continued, the details became more in depth and the speech became faster until, when she finally took a breath, she had finished.

Silence passed between the two witches for a much longer time than Hermione would've liked.

"Please say something," Hermione pleaded in a small voice.

Ginny just looked at her, thunderstruck.

Against her will, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "Please, Ginny, anything…"

Ginny let out a long breath. "If I'm being perfectly honest, I don't know what to say."

Hermione buried her face in her hands and wept.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione…" Ginny wrapped Hermione in a tight hug. Hermione gripped the folds of Ginny's sweater, willing herself to stop crying. "I'm not upset with you, truly. I'm just a little shocked."

"That's almost worse!" Hermione mumbled into Ginny's shoulder.

"Do you have feelings for him?"

Hermione jerked back from Ginny as if the ginger witch had been coated in Devil's Snare. " _What?!_ No! How could I? Of course not! Why would you suggest that?!"

Ginny closed her eyes. "For once, I wish you would be a better liar."

Hermione channeled a goldfish as her mouth opened and closed. "Wha… What? I'm not…! Ginny, I'm not lying!"

"You're telling me you don't like him even a little bit?" Ginny asked, holding up her fingers mere millimeters apart for emphasis.

Hermione knew that at some point in her life she would have to face the music. Now just didn't seem like a good time while her hair was a mess and there was still a bit of snot on her nose. "I… I don't… I don't. I don't think… No. No I don't…"

She met Ginny's eyes. "Oh my god, I do."

Both witches went pale.

"I have minor feelings for Draco Malfoy," Hermione said aloud, feeling something in her gut twist like a knife as she said it. "Oh my god… Oh my god… This can't be happening… Why in the world would I feel that way?!"

Ginny rubbed her temples, struggling to find an answer. "You said he's been acting differently since you met him at the bar. Almost… Merlin help me, _nicer?"_

"That can't be it. There is no way in heaven or hell that I would feel anything for Draco Malfoy. I was tortured in his drawing room by his sadistic aunt!" Hermione remembered it in way too much detail. But she remembered Malfoy's drunken promise New Year's Eve. He would change. He'd be a better person. He had been taking his medical entrance exams. He was passionate about the medical field. He wanted to help others.

Her words to Justin came thundering back. A reluctant child. Malfoy's face at the Battle of Hogwarts swam into view. She remembered his parents near begging him to join them, to be with them, to be safe. He had looked around in such nervous apprehension. It was his mother's words that brought him across. But they had not fought after they had been reunited. The Malfoys left the grounds and wouldn't be heard from again for several months.

Her reverie was broken by Ginny taking her hand. "I don't hold this against you," she said. "But you need to talk to him. You need to get whatever…" she gestured vaguely, " _this_ is straightened out before you go back to Cypress & Southers."

Deep down, Hermione knew that Ginny was right. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but it had to be done. Reluctantly, Hermione got to her feet and grabbed a piece of parchment from her desk and the quill sitting on her dresser. She scrawled a quick note and then sent her owl off to Malfoy Manor.

" _We need to talk about New Year's.  
_ _-H.G."_

* * *

 _(Ahahaha, wow it's been literally over a month. My bad guys; life happens. I hope this extra long chapter makes up for it. Thanks again to Kara for all the help she gives me! Now it's time to unintentionally ghost you guys for another few weeks while I write the next chapter! Cheers!)_


	4. Confrontations

Chapter Four – Confrontations

Hermione's owl didn't return until three o'clock that afternoon. Archimedes, the medium sized tawny owl, had been her gift to herself after she had graduated from Hogwarts with full honors. He flew into her sitting room and perched on the back of her favorite reclining chair. On its leg was a very small curl of parchment with three words:

 _"Time and place."_

He didn't need to sign it. She knew that handwriting. Many nasty, bullying notes written in that hand had been slipped into her bag or found their way between the pages of her books while at Hogwarts. It wasn't the handwriting that was throwing her off, however. His seeming willingness to talk was unnerving to Hermione. Was his perceived inclination to meet and talk harmless or did he want something out of this? Could he be plotting to blackmail her into silence? Perhaps not, she considered, finding her quill in her desk. Vain as Malfoy was, blackmail was something he most likely wouldn't stoop to. There were so many other, more clever ways of keeping secrets.

Her heart thudded faster. Keeping secrets… Would he force her into the Unbreakable Vow? Was Malfoy really that obsessed with his image to make her take the Vow? Then no one would ever know about their night. Except Ginny. Ginny was the queen and the move she was saving in this game of chess. The queen's sacrifice would be Ginny's testimony to the world. But what would happen then?

Hermione banged her fist on the table, startling Archimedes and Crookshanks, who had been napping in a patch of sunlight. "Stop this," she told herself aloud. "You're getting ahead of yourself. You don't even know what he's going to say, if anything at all. He might just want to clear the air and be on his way." Staging out every possible outcome was a skill that she had thanks to years of social and testing anxiety. Whether it was a blessing or a curse was yet to be determined.

She turned his parchment over and found some scratched out words. A rough draft maybe? Regardless, she took out a new slip and scratched:

 _"Tonight, 5p, my flat. I'll open the Floo for you."_

It wasn't until Archimedes was already flying out the window and over the trees that the blood drained from her face in realization. Her flat?! What in the world was she thinking? Any one of her friends could come barging in and interrupt.

 _Think, Hermione, think…  
_  
She'd just have to close the Floo and windows. Maybe even place a non-Apperation ward around the flat, just for a few hours. It would a hell of a lot easier than trying to resend another message. Hermione looked around the small living room and sighed. If she was having company, it was probably better to tidy up now. At least be presentable when Malfoy arrived.

Several times during her cleaning, Hermione stopped to check the clock, set up a ward, or make sure that the windows were indeed locked. She flicked her wand and the broom and dustbin finished their work. As the clock crept ever closer to five o'clock, she pulled the curtains tightly shut, smoothing the fabric and picking off bits of dust. Her nervousness was not sated.

The wall clock struck five.

A chime sounded from the fireplace.

Hermione could barely breathe.

Slowly, with the care and steadiness of predator, Hermione—wand drawn—crossed the room and flicked open the Floo. Tiny, green flames flickered to life in the bottom of the fireplace, an indication that it was still locked, but someone wanted to cross over.

"Who is it?" She called into the flames.

"Draco Malfoy," came the reply.

She closed her eyes, willing time to freeze forever before this moment so she would not have to live it.

"You may enter." It was as if it wasn't even her voice.

The fireplace roared as the flames leapt towards the mantle. Malfoy stepped out of the fire and into her living room. He looked positively normal in his clean, pressed dress shirt and black slacks. He was even wearing a black tie. She could see through his sleeve in the light from the kitchen where his wand was concealed. What looked to be a silver watch chain hung from his belt and led back to his pocket. It was archaic, but charming.

His posture stiffened as he saw her. He seemed to flounder with his words for a moment. "Good to see you."

"You what?" Hermione demanded, crossing the room and putting the kitchen counter between them. The barrier was somewhat encouraging.

Malfoy's eyes darted for a moment in confusion. "Um… I said good to see you."

"I heard you, but why did you say it?"

"It's called being a decent human being."

Hermione must have snorted louder than she meant to, because Malfoy glared now. "I told you I was trying to be a better person." He glanced around the room. "We were actually laying on the ground right over there—" he pointed to the floor "—when I said it."

"Why?"

"Why does it matter?" He demanded, losing his temper for a moment. His stormy eyes blazed. "Why does it matter so much to you if I try and change? Am I not allowed?!" With increasing volume, he started walking in a pacing circle. "Am I always going to be the enemy to you? Is that how you see me? With a _target_ on my chest?!" He thumped his hand against his chest for emphasis.

Hermione suddenly felt very small. But fury replaced passiveness quickly. "You and your family did some pretty awful things to an entire sect of people during the war. That's quite hard to forgive, you know!" She slapped her wand onto the kitchen counter and rounded the corner of it, pointing her finger in his face for emphasis as she said: " _You_ did things that are hard to forgive! Your _family_ did things that are hard to forgive!" Tears came unbidden. She wretched the sleeve of her sweater up and, for the first time in a very long time, openly showed the angry word on her arm. The slur. The scar. The wound.

"Do you see this, Malfoy?! Do you see it?! This word has followed me for two years! Two _fucking_ years of shame and self-hatred! I've tried everything to get it off. A cursed blade carved it! This is a scar of hatred and evil and pain and… and… And it will never come off! NEVER!" She was shouting now, her tears cascading and her heart bursting.

Wracked by sobs, Hermione sunk to the ground, gripping her left forearm tightly enough that the blood was cut off.

Blinded by her tears and her bottled hatred, she didn't see Malfoy stoop down next to her. "We match you know," he said, rolling up his left sleeve. Hermione wiped her eyes and inhaled sharply as he twisted his wrist over and showed her his Dark Mark.

She had never actually seen one this close before. It was terrifying, even with the magical ink faded and gone with Voldemort's power. It now looked like an angry, greyish, burn scar. The eyes of the skull were still much too lifelike. Hermione felt as though she were staring at something deeply personal and looked away, more tears building quickly.

"I didn't have a choice, either."

She didn't look back at him, but he continued anyway. "When muggle farmers brand cows, the animal must be restrained so it doesn't lash out against the sudden pain. My father held my left arm out to the Dark Lord, Rowle and Greyback held my legs and torso. They could've restrained me with magic, but I suppose they wanted to feel me squirm. Feel the pain go through me." Hermione looked at him now. A pale and frightened child once again, Malfoy took in a shuddering breath.

"The Dark Lord took my wrist in his hand and burned the mark into me. He used a curse I had never heard of. I don't know how it happened; there was a flash of light and the worst pain I've ever felt…" He rubbed his eyes roughly. "The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, howling in pain. My arm was bleeding and pulsing with this awful light. And they all just… laughed. They laughed at me."

Bellatrix's laugh echoed in her mind, and Hermione shivered.

"I wish I could remember more. Maybe the curse he used has a countercurse and I could remove this infernal mark." He looked her in the eye now. "I know that doesn't even begin to equal what you went through, but know that you weren't the only one."

Hermione was at a loss for words.

Suddenly, he was staring at the opposite wall, blushing and not looking her in the face. "I apologize. I over shared." The tenderness was gone as he walled himself up again.

Hermione felt like something had been stripped away in that moment between them. Some barrier had fallen down. She felt close to him now, a phrase that she had never expected to think. She thought back to her conversation with Ginny. Hermione had feelings for him. Something small, but it was there. The question was, did she feel that way because he was trying to become a better person? Was it because they slept together? Where had the feelings come from? She couldn't deny that he was rather good looking, but that wasn't everything. Maybe she had been wrong. Perhaps he _had_ just been a bully in school and a child who had been coerced into doing Voldemort's work. She had to know.

"Malfoy… Did you willingly accept the mark? Did you want to be a Death Eater?" She winced as she asked. That was way too forward.

His jaw ground and set. "He was going to kill my mother."

Hermione covered her mouth in shock.

"He was going to kill her if I made a move he didn't like. He knew I had one weakness and he was so happy to exploit it. So I took the mark and I did anything he asked me to." Hermione recalled him testifying during his trial. He was given a pardon and a clean record and only a few people had been angry with that. An eighteen year old's transgressions had been of little consequence to the Wizengamot. They had bigger fish to fry after the war.

"Why would you think I would join him willingly?" Storms of confusion swirled in his eyes; not maliciously, more out of genuine surprise.

"I… I don't know. I had doubted Harry when he tried to tell us because—"

"You did?"

"Well, yes. I did."

"Why?"

Hermione wasn't sure how to answer that. "I guess I just assumed that you wouldn't be capable of being a Death Eater. You were too young. Too unpredictable." She reached down and picked some Crookshanks fur out of the rug. "In all honesty, I didn't think you had it in you."

"I really didn't. I promise."

There it was again. It was the feeling of a broken barrier. A tug on her. It was like she was being pulled into his psyche. She shook herself slightly. "Why are you telling me this?"

Malfoy looked ashamed. "I don't have anyone else to tell. No one wants to listen to this… these emotions."

They were only quiet for a brief moment. She couldn't take it anymore. "What are we doing?" She asked. Her voice cracked, to her displeasure. "What is going on?" She looked around herself. She and Malfoy were sitting on her floor, mere inches from each other, pouring out their hearts out. She wouldn't have bet on this situation in a million years. "Just the other morning you were jibing at me like you did in school. Now we're practically having a therapy session. I used to hate you! You made my life terrible in school and—"

"Used to?"

Hermione inhaled sharply. She looked up at him, eyes transfixed on his face. She expected him to look furious or disgusted. No. He simply looked stunned.

"I…"

 _Say something, idiot!"_

"I don't hate you." She replied lamely. "Not anymore."

"I don't hate you, either." The reply was less surprising than the blush that crept up his neck.

"Well that's a phrase I never thought I'd hear you say," she laughed slightly. The tension cracked and Malfoy smiled. It broke completely as she smiled back and they began to laugh together.

Hermione had never expected such an astonishing mix of emotions.

"What are we doing?" She asked again, smiling as she said it this time. "I don't even know what we are anymore."

"Let's start with acquaintances," Malfoy said, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "Perhaps colleagues when at university."

"Right. Good. Acquaintances."

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, I don't know," she giggled. "Never in my wildest dreams did I expect this scenario!"

"Nor did I," the reply was so matter-of-fact.

Hermione bit back a yelp as intrusive thoughts poured into her mind. In that moment she had wanted to kiss him. Of her own volition. Not under any effects of alcohol or a spell. She had wanted to _kiss_ him. Right there and then. What in the name of Merlin was that about?

"Are you okay?"

Damn it all, why did he have to look so concerned? "Oh, yes, sorry. I just remembered I had plans for tomorrow and need to prepare for them." The excuse was awful, but he seemed to buy it. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It's alright, I was just going to ask if you still wanted… erm… wanted to talk about…" He couldn't seem to finish the sentence. "About… Oh Merlin…"

"New Years?"

"Yes. That."

Embarrassment was abound.

"I think we should… Just not tonight." She didn't chance looking at him. "I have a few plans that I need to get to yet tonight and it's already past six."

Sweet Merlin, he looked disappointed. "Of course. I apologize for calling at such a late hour."

What an outdated expression. "No, don't worry," she attempted a smile. "I invited you."

Silence lapsed for a moment. "Right, well," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "Here, let me help you up—"

"Thank you, but I can—"

"No I insist—"

"Whoa—!"

Hermione's leg slipped out from under her. Malfoy caught her around the waist, but her leg got caught on his ankle. They both fell onto the ground in a heap. It took a fraction of a second too long for them to realize that they were sprawled on top of each other.

With the grace of newborn deer, they separated quickly. Hermione stood first, Malfoy not far behind.

"I told you that you needed help," he said cheekily.

Hermione fumed slightly, hoping that the tinge of anger was what was making her cheeks so warm. "I was perfectly capable of getting up on my own, thank you very much."

"Oh, yes. I could see that much." Before she could return a scathing reply, he took a pinch of Floo Powder rom the pot on the mantle. "Now if you excuse me, I should go. Have a pleasant evening, Hermione."

"You, as well."

And just like that, he was gone.

Hermione spun around and slammed her hands on the counter. "What the _bloody hell_ was that?!" She demanded of no one. "He called me by my first name!" Her heart was hammering so fast that she thought it was going to explode. Running her hands through her hair seems to help her nerves, if only slightly. "Okay, okay, think for a second," she breathed, trying to get a handle on her emotions.

There was no way in hell she had that strong of a feeling for him. There was no way. He was her childhood bully! A menace to her every day of her life. He had been told to kill Dumbledore, for goodness sake!

But he didn't do it.

He couldn't. Harry had said that he had lowered his wand and never fired a single spell other than to disarm Dumbledore. Had Malfoy really been that unable to do the deed? Or was it all for show until the other Death Eaters arrived? Malfoy had been the one to invite them into Hogwarts. He had fixed the cabinet. But had that just been because he was told to?

Voldemort had been holding Madame Malfoy's life against him. Hermione had never met the Malfoy Matriarch for more than a moment, but she seemed to hold all the same views and beliefs as her husband. But as a prisoner to Voldemort, would she have held to those beliefs? Harry had said that she was the one that pronounced him dead and knew it was a lie. Was there a streak of good flowing through the Malfoys? The phrase was often 'like father, like son,' but perhaps, Hermione mused, the phrase could be turned in this case: 'like mother, like son.'

Hermione looked at the clock again. Six fifteen…Still enough time to get to the Weasleys. She reached into her refrigerator and picked out the packed dinner she made for her and George. After tucking that and a pack of Exploding Snap cards into her beaded bag, Hermione took down the wards and unlocked the Floo.

Moments later, there was a knock on her front door.

"Miss, please open your door, this is the police!"

Hermione's brows furrowed. The police? She cast a quick charm to enlarge the peephole on her side. A police officer and her elderly next-door neighbor were standing there. They looked normal enough. Hermione looked around quickly to see if she left out anything magical before she unlocked the door and opened it.

"Oh thank heaven," her neighbor said, relief palatable on her wrinkled face.

"Mrs. McGuffin, what a surprise. And hello officer, is there something I can do for you?" She tried to lean nonchalantly on the doorframe.

The police officer was no more than sixty and had a dark mustache. He took out a pad of paper and said, "Good evening, miss. My name is Officer Gerald Blackard. I apologize for intruding, but there was a complaint of a domestic disturbance about an hour ago."

"I heard you yelling at a man in here! I thought you was being abused by some bozo!" Mrs. McGuffin's sharp voice carried over the balcony and into the night air. Hermione was sure the other neighbors heard and were meant to. There were quite a few elderly women that lived in this complex, and they all gossiped about all the other tenants.

Hermione cursed herself. How could she have forgotten a _Muffliato_ charm? She smiled. "Thank you for your concern, really. But it was nothing to worry yourself over. It was a… bad breakup." She hoped that was convincing.

"You must have a much nicer telephone than I do. I heard that boy's voice as if he were in the room with you!" Mrs. McGuffin rapped her cane on the concrete, as if to affirm the subject.

"Do you feel threatened by this man, miss?" The officer asked, writing down some notes as he said it.

A laugh nearly escaped, but Hermione managed to turn it into a smile. "No, sir. Thank you. We are just both very hard-headed individuals and wanted to get the last word in during our call. Thank you for checking in, Mrs. McGuffin, I really do appreciate it." She turned to the officer. "And thank you, sir. But I have dinner plans with my friends and really must be going. Thank you, again." She grabbed her belongings and locked the door the muggle way behind her before she trekked down the stairwell, the officer following not far behind.

"If you see any more of this hard-headed gentleman and you don't want to, please don't hesitate to give the local station a ring," he said, tipping his hat to her. "Would you like a lift to your dinner plans?" He opened his patrol car door.

"Thank you for your kindness, Officer Blackard, but I have a bus pass." She smiled warmly and wound her scarf a bit tighter. The policeman tipped his hat again before he got into his car and drove off. Hermione waited until he was just out of sight and then found the alley between her apartment building and an opposing building to Apperate to the Weasleys.

* * *

Draco walked briskly out of the fireplace and into his own home. He hadn't lived in Malfoy Manor in nearly two years. The townhouse he now lived in was in a fairly nice Muggle neighborhood that allowed him some anonymity. Oh, if only his father could see him now. Living among Muggles, making friends with them.

As soon as his feet touched the rug, he let out a gasp, as if he had been holding his breath.

"You _IDOIT!"_ He hissed angrily. He let himself fall open far too easily in her presence. Their chance encounter at the bar was something out of a story, but he was in over his head. He had to limit his contact with her until he could sort through his emotions.

"You alright, mate?"

Draco looked up and sighed. "It didn't go well," he said, addressing his Muggle friend, Albert Burns. Albert had sworn to secrecy once he had learned that Draco was a wizard, but didn't desert him once he had learned about some very recent wizarding history.

" _The way I see it, you're trying to atone for past wrongs. That's real noble of you. Bet your old man couldn't do that!"_

Albert was the kind of skinny that a mother would worry about with a mop of chestnut brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He had been a welcome ear to talk to for some time. With not a drop of magical blood in his veins, Albert had a unique position that completely removed him from the magical world, but he wasn't afraid to share his thoughts on magical folk once he learned more about them.

"Did she not accept your feelings?" Albert asked, reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing two bottles of beer.

Draco chuckled and flicked his wand. " _Accio beer bottle,_ " He removed the cap and took a long sip. Stout. His favorite.

Albert laughed. "I love it when you do that." He walked over and sat down on the large, green armchair.

"We didn't even get to talking about New Years." Draco leaned against the mantle and locked the Floo. "We somehow ended up pouring our hearts out about our pasts and then she basically shooed me out."

"Heavy stuff," Albert said, taking another swing of his drink. "Do you think she fancies you at all?"

Draco drew little circles on the wood of the mantle with his index finger. "I don't know."

There was a loud sigh as Albert got up from the chair. "Listen, Draco. You're my mate, so I'll give it to you the easy way." He clapped Draco on the shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. "She's not stupid, this Hermione. From what you've told me, she's probably smarter than anyone I've ever met. She's not gonna fall for any games or tricks or anything like that." He shrugged. "She also doesn't sound like the kind of girl that appreciates beating around the bush."

"Logic is her standby. I'm sure she'll put it together eventually," Draco's voice sounded more hopeless than he intended.

Albert rolled his eyes. "And isn't you telling her that you like her going to sound a lot better coming from you than some other bloke or her own brain?"

He stared at the floor for a moment. "I bullied her in school. I was the 'bad guy' in the war. How could she ever find any way to care about anything I do?"

A finger wagged in his face as Albert smiled. "You seriously doubt the powers of fate and human decency."

Draco chuckled. "You could say that again." And he downed the rest of his stout.

* * *

 _(I just need to stop promising a set time for updates, honestly. It's been what, a month and a half? Ech, sorry guys. But! I hope this chapter makes up for the sad lack of updates. See you guys later! Cheers!)_


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